


I need that like I need another hole in my head

by asonyplaystation



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Blood, JUST SO WE'RE TOTALLY CLEAR ABOUT WHAT HAPPENS HERE, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, RICHIE FUCKS THE HOLE IN EDDIE'S FACE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:47:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22431316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asonyplaystation/pseuds/asonyplaystation
Summary: “Did I hurt you?” Richie says.“No, it’s good,” Eddie says.“It’s good? Eds.”“Look, it’s just… It’s alright. Don’t worry about hurting me.”“Of course I’m going to worry about you, idiot, that’s my job.”He doesn’t stop touching Eddie, though, runs another finger over the scar.---There's a huge open wound in Eddie's face, and he kind of likes when it gets touched. He kind of likes it a lot. He kind of wants to do more with it.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 20
Kudos: 116





	I need that like I need another hole in my head

The problem with having stitches in your face is that your face is a complex system of many different muscles moving in many different ways, and you are liable to move them very quickly and very suddenly. Like, for example, when you have your boyfriend's cock halfway down your throat and you try to jerk your mouth open a little wider to swallow around him and the seven neat little threads in your face pop open like an overstuffed drawer. 

Eddie throws himself backwards onto his ass, shouting with sudden surprised pain, clutching at his face. Richie, who up until that point was leaning comfortably against the wall of their bedroom with his eyes closed and his fingers in Eddie's hair, shrieks with confused horror. Blood is gushing between Eddie’s fingers and he is startlingly pale in comparison, his eyes so enormous in his face that he looks like a startled owl. Richie lunges across the room and grabs the nearest available absorbent object, which happens to be his own robe, and presses it to the side of Eddie's face. 

"Fuck. Fuck. I'm dying," Eddie says.

"You're not dying," Richie says. 

"I can't believe I'm gonna be the first guy to die from giving a blowjob."

"If it's any comfort, you definitely aren't the first guy. But you're not dying."

Eddie glares at him. He notices that what he's holding up to his face is a fistful of blue plaid cotton and makes a noise of disgust.

"Is this -- Richie, this is not sanitised, you put your bare ass on this robe."

"I put my bare ass on your mouth, too."

Eddie is full of outrage and drama, but Richie realises that if his boyfriend is talking this much, this coherently, he's probably not going to die. He did ok the first time he got stabbed as well, getting himself together a few hours after having his face sliced open, so in the comparatively safer scenario of an accident in the bedroom of their apartment, he is unlikely to die. It's just shock. 

Eddie peels the cloth off his face. He's not bleeding that much actually, vivid red rivulets of blood dripping down the side of his jaw alarming but manageable, even as it trickles down his neck onto his chest. He has smeared blood all over the side of his face. The wound itself, several inches long, goes clean through his cheek. Eddie experimentally pokes at it, wincing when he finds he can push his finger all the way through the flaps of skin and into his mouth. Richie watches intensely, eyes extremely round and focused in his skull.

"I can't believe your dick killed me," Eddie says.

"I can," Richie says. "I can't believe you're still hard."

He is still hard, under his Calvin Klein boxer shorts. As a rock, actually. 

"I guess I'm just a masochist," he says. "Get me fucking painkillers. The good ones."

Richie obediently darts into their bathroom and comes back a second later with  _ the good painkillers _ . He grabs a bottle of water from the side of the bed so Eddie has something to swallow them with. Eddie does not think about drinking Richie's backwash and just takes the pills. Desperate times.

“Are you feeling ok?” Richie says. 

“I feel like I have a huge fucking hole in my face. One more than I should have.”

Eddie pulls the loose thread free and winces, the sensation of having something pulling free from his skin bizarrely satisfying in a way he really doesn’t want to think too much about. He swallows deeply, a mixture of blood and spit, feeling around the edges of the hole with his tongue. There’s a weird sensation there; the nerves are fucked up enough that he doesn’t really feel it as much as he might have expected, and what he does feel is… Strange. He doesn’t exactly know what he might call it.

Richie crouches down on the floor next to him, still watching intently.

“Can I touch?” He says.

“Yeah, just… Be careful.”

He is careful, incredibly ginger as he runs a finger around the skin. Eddie shivers and gasps a little, the feeling of Richie touching it reminding him of overstimulation, times when he’d just cum but still had his cock inside Richie and every tiny flicker of sensation was overwhelming. It has the same mixture of pleasure and pain that were so close together they were indistinguishable. 

“Did I hurt you?” Richie says.

“No, it’s good,” Eddie says.

“ _ It’s good?  _ Eds.”

“Look, it’s just… It’s alright. Don’t worry about hurting me.”

“Of course I’m going to worry about you, idiot, that’s my job.”

He doesn’t stop touching Eddie, though, runs another finger over the scar. Very, very gently he pushes against the wound, pressing just the tip of his finger through. Eddie jerks with surprise as he feels the sides of his skin stretch around the intrusion. The feeling goes right to his dick. 

"Shit, sorry," Richie says.

"It's fine." 

"You're being so weird."

"You're the one fingering my face."

"You're the one who keeps telling me to."

"I… I kinda like it."

Richie grins, a little surprised and uncertain. He looks nervous, but there's something excited in it too, and he doesn't really know how to react. He pushes a finger deeper inside, right through to inside Eddie's mouth, over teeth and tongue. Eddie finds he is kneading his cock in his hand, without even realising he wanted to. He's achingly hard, almost harder than he was  _ before  _ he ripped his fucking stitches out. 

Richie is watching him, eyes glued to his face and every way his expressions flicker. Eddie is breathing hard through his nose, biting the very tip of his tongue with his teeth. There's a coiled tension in his body that makes every tiny motion feel earth-shattering. By the time Richie pushes a finger knuckle deep inside Eddie's mouth, Eddie is grinding himself against his hand hard, precum leaking through the material of his underwear.

"Fuck, you  _ really _ like this," Richie says.

Eddie looks at him and just moans low in his throat to answer. Richie's eyes go wide. He pulls his hand back, wet with blood and saliva, Eddie shivering with the feeling of him drawing out. When he pushes back in it is with two fingers, stretching the hole a little wider without difficulty. Eddie rolls his tongue over the fingers, tasting sweat and blood there, Richie hissing softly. He's hard too, his free hand feeling his cock just like Eddie is pushing his hand inside his underwear to thrust harder against it.

"Rishkie," Eddie says around Richie's fingers. Richie pulls back out.

"What? You want me to stop? You doing ok?"

"I want… Would you…"

"What, baby?"

"I want you to fuck me in the face."

"Through the…?"

Richie looks like he doesn't know if Eddie is joking or not, face twisting with surprise, eyes almost bugging out of his head. 

"Yeah. Please."

"That could really hurt."

"If it's too much, I'll tell you. God, look, you don't have to-"

"No, I… I want to. I just don't know if you're…"

"Please. It hurts, but it's so fucking  _ good _ . I want you to do it more. I want you to get off on it." He's pushing into his hand more now, thrusting his hips against it, wanting more release. "I want you to fuck me in the face and I want to feel you cum in my throat. It hurts really good. I want you to feel good too."

"You are… Insane," Richie says.

"Yeah, but so are you."

"Fucking clearly."

Richie stands up and strokes a thumb over the edge of Eddie's wound. Eddie takes his cock and brings it to his cheek, to the edges of the scar. He is holding his breath even before Richie pushes gently in, the sides of the wound slowly beginning to part around the head of Richie's cock. It's more than the fingers, obviously, thicker and heavier. It burns, but it makes Eddie think of the first time he bottomed, the burn and stretch of having someone fit inside him. And that hadn't really hurt because they'd been careful, but it hurting is kind of the point now. It hurting is what's making Eddie's dick throb in his hand and heart thunder in his chest. 

Richie's cock pushes into his mouth, the wound opening up only to tighten around him, like it’s sucking him in, and Eddie whines a little as Richie's fingers sink into his hair to hold him steady. Richie's cock is running over his teeth and Eddie makes his jaw slack so he doesn't hurt him, going willingly limp and docile. He trusts Richie, trusts Richie to fuck him just right and not to do anything he wouldn't want, to use him in a way that he likes. He's  _ very _ happy for Richie to get off using him; the idea makes him feel really good, for reasons he can’t explain. Just makes him hot all over, stomach full of butterflies. It’s the romance of it all.

“You doing ok?” Richie says, voice breathy and low.

Eddie just hums in response, watching the way Richie bites his lip at the feeling of Eddie’s mouth moving over his dick. He pushes a little further in; because of the position he’s butting up against the back of Eddie’s throat more quickly, but Eddie was sucking his cock just a few moments ago and has no problem taking it again. He gags once, a bubble of spit on his lip, but he doesn’t pull away. Richie slides in deeper, moving slowly even though in Eddie’s fantasies he goes hard and careless. That wouldn’t happen, though; in his wildest, craziest dreams, Richie would never  _ really _ hurt him.

He swallows wetly around Richie’s cock, feeling it in his throat, how hard and heavy it is. He can taste sweat, blood and cum, see where blood is beginning to trick down around Richie’s cock. Richie’s eyes are half closed, lips parted, red where he’s bitten down hard. If they kissed, the taste of blood would be mutual. The idea of that makes Eddie feel a little crazy, for reasons he can’t really explain. It’s just the kind of thing he would never allow to happen for anyone, ever, except for Richie. It’s okay when it’s Richie.

Richie who is pulling back out now, the drag of skin over his cock making him hiss just as the sensation of odd, numbed pain and pressure makes Eddie shudder hard, gasping. A string of bloody drool is hanging from Richie’s cock. Eddie licks his lips and inadvertently runs his tongue over the head of the cock still just inside his mouth. Richie groans.

“You want me to keep going?” He asks, voice a rasp in his throat. Eddie nods. His  _ own _ dick is leaking in his hand, so hard that every time he moves against it he jerks from the sensitivity.

Richie pushes in more confidently, now he knows Eddie can take it. Eddie has no real choice but to be limp in his hands, letting him fuck in and out slowly, carefully, so restrained that one of Eddie’s hands is clawing at the floor in frustration. He wants to be actually  _ used _ , for Richie’s careful restraint to crumble because he wants Eddie so fucking badly. Eddie grabs onto his leg to steady himself, trying to push against him with a sense of urgency.  _ Please, please. Please _ .

Richie gets the hint. He moves one hand under Eddie’s neck, able to feel his own cock sliding down Eddie’s throat while the other is still knotted in his hair. Richie pulls Eddie forward more sharply, the sensation both immediately painful and immediately erotic, the force of it making him breathless. Eddie gags again, but wipes the drool from his mouth and doesn’t let Richie stop.

It hurts, but it hurts in a way Eddie needs. The stretch and burn of muscle, the feeling of Richie’s body heat all around and in him, the edge of lightheadedness that makes everything dizzying and only more exciting. He’s not thinking fully straight, but only because he’s so clouded by lust he can’t think about anything other than getting fucked harder. He swallows hard and hears Richie groan again, bucking his hips against Eddie’s face. 

Skin on skin, his own cock aching in his hand, the warmth of being touched and of his own body. When he can keep his eyes open, when he can keep them focused on Richie, he can see how lost he is in the moment. They both are, Eddie moving with Richie’s movements, rolling his body with the motion. The sensation in his cheek is all heat, like being too close to a fire, the pleasure of it so overwhelming it hurts. It’s so much now he almost can’t feel anything at all because it’s all over, the constant wet thrust of Richie’s hips, the careful moderation of breath and touch. It’s feverish, frantic, thrusting into his own hand with a blind need.

Richie is talking, because when isn’t he talking, but his voice is a pleasant background hum of sensation where Eddie can’t pick out the words, can only feel the way Richie holds him close and desperate, skin burning against him, slick with sweat, breath coming in high bursts. He’s shaking, fingernails digging into Eddie’s scalp just another pinprick of sensation on top of everything else. Eddie is slack and loose and so taken in the moment that he can’t do anything but be there, feel the ratcheting desperation as he grew closer and closer to finishing.

When he does finish it’s with Richie deep inside him, moaning helplessly around the cock in his throat and the twisting of his scar, reaching a point where the fever breaks and he comes with his hips jerking, his body twisting. It’s probably the hardest he’s come in a long time, gripping onto Richie with his free hand like he’s trying to stop himself from collapsing entirely. He leaves a bruise on Richie’s thigh, but Richie doesn’t notice.

Richie does finish in his throat, almost at the exact same time, as if the motion of Eddie’s body as he rides out his orgasm is what tips him over the edge. Richie pulls out of Eddie’s scar, a string of cum following, dripping out of the side of Eddie’s face. Eddie tongues at it, licking the last drop off the inside of his mouth while Richie watches, bug-eyed.

Richie sits down hard on the bed, one hand over his mouth, staring. Eddie stares back, ragged breath making him shake a little bit, heart still pounding in his chest. He’s smiling, but he doesn’t think he can speak yet. He touches the side of his face, pinching it to make the sides of the scar touch again. It feels kind of numb, now. 

“I feel like I’m gonna pass out,” Richie says. There’s blood on his cock and his thighs still, blood on Eddie’s hand and face, too.

“I’m going to gargle saline solution,” Eddie says, voice notably hoarse. “And then we’re going to the emergency room.”

“Are you ok?!” Richie says, head snapping up. 

“Yeah, just that someone stabbed me a little while ago.”

Richie rolls his eyes.

“I mean I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He says.

“No. You didn’t do anything I didn’t want you to,” Eddie says. He stands up and winces when his knees pop. Richie darts over and helps him up like he’s an elderly man who needs support.

“That was insane,” Richie says, starting to laugh just from the absurdity of it all.

“We can never tell anyone this,” Eddie says, “ever.”

“What do we tell the doctor?” Richie says, grinning. “You tripped and fell onto a huge dick?”

“Go wash your dick,” Eddie says bitterly. 

They did go to the emergency room, and they did get stitches. The scar did not heal as neatly as Eddie might have once hoped, but he figured he didn’t really have anyone to blame for that but himself.


End file.
